Dawn Eleanor Porter (free novels to read txt) 📖

he'd tell all about what he saw; the 'purple sunsets,' an''dancin' leaves,' an' the merry little brooks hurryin' down thehillside,' till you could jest SEE the place he was talkin' about. Butnow—now he's comin' to full conscientiousness, the doctor says; an'he don't talk of anything only—only the dark. An' pretty quick he'll—know."

"An' yet you want that poor child to live, Susan Betts!"

"Of course I want him to live!"

"But what can he DO?"

"Do? There ain't nothin' he can't do. Why, Mis' McGuire, listen! I'vebeen readin' up. First, I felt as you do—a little. I—I didn't WANThim to live. Then I heard of somebody who was blind, an' what he did.He wrote a great book. I've forgotten its name, but it was somethin'about Paradise. PARADISE—an' he was in prison, too. Think of writin'about Paradise when you're shut up in jail—an' blind, at that! Well,I made up my mind if that man could see Paradise through them prisonbars with his poor blind eyes, then Keith could. An' I was goin' tohave him do it, too. An' so I went down to the library an' asked MissHemenway for a book about him. An' I read it. An' then she told meabout more an' more folks that was blind, an' what they had done. An'I read about them, too."

"Well, gracious me, Susan Betts, if you ain't the limit!" commented

Mrs. McGuire, half admiringly, half disapprovingly.

"Well, I did. An'—why, Mis' McGuire, you hain't any inception of anidea of what those men an' women an'—yes, children—did. Why, one of'em wasn't only blind, but deaf an' dumb, too. She was a girl. An' nowshe writes books an' gives lecturin's, an', oh, ev'rything."

"Maybe. I ain't sayin' they don't. But I guess somebody else has to doa part of it. Look at Keith right here now. How are you goin' to takecare of him when he gets up an' begins to walk around? Why, he can'tsee to walk or—or feed himself, or anything. Has the nurse gone?"

Susan shook her head. Her lips came together grimly.

"No. Goes next week, though. Land's sakes, but I hope that woman isexpulsive enough! Them entrained nurses always cost a lot, I guess.But we've just had to have her while he was so sick. But she's goin'next week."

"But what ARE you goin' to do? You can't tag him around all day an' doyour other work, too. Of course, there's his father—"

"His father! Good Heavens, woman, I wonder if you think I'd trust thatboy to his father?" demanded Susan indignantly. "Why, once let him gethis nose into that paint-box, an' he don't know anything—notanything. Why, I wouldn't trust him with a baby rabbit—if I cared forthe rabbit. Besides, he don't like to be with Keith, nor see him, northink of him. He feels so bad."

"Humph! Well, if he does feel bad I don't think that's a very nice wayto show it. Not think of him, indeed! Well, I guess he'll find SOMEone has got to think of him now. But there! that's what you mightexpect of Daniel Burton, I s'pose, moonin' all day over those sillypictures of his. As my John says—"

"They're not silly pictures," cut in Susan, flaring into instantwrath. "He HAS to paint pictures in order to get money to live, don'the? Well, then, let him paint. He's an artist—an extinguished artist—not just a common storekeeper." (Mr. McGuire, it might be mentionedin passing, kept a grocery store.) "An' if you're artistical, you'redifferent from other folks. You have to be."

"Nonsense, Susan! That's all bosh, an' you know it. What if he doespaint pictures? That hadn't ought to hinder him from takin' propercare of his own son, had it?"

"Yes, if he's blind." Susan spoke with firmness and decision. "Youdon't seem to understand at all, Mis' McGuire. Mr. Burton is anartist. Artists like flowers an' sunsets an' clouds an' brooks. Theydon't like disagreeable things. They don't want to see 'em or thinkabout 'em. I know. It's that way with Mr. Burton. Before, when Keithwas all right, he couldn't bear him out of his sight, an' he was goin'to have him do such big, fine, splendid things when he grew up. Now,since he's blind, he can't bear him IN his sight. He feels that bad.He just won't be with him if he can help it. But he ain't forgettin'him. He's thinkin' of him all the time. I KNOW. An' it's tellin' onhim. He's lookin' thin an' bad an' sick. You see, he's sodisappointed, when he'd counted on such big things for that boy!"

"Humph! Well, I'll risk HIM. It's Keith I'm worry in' about. Who isgoing to take care of him?"

Susan Betts frowned.

"Well, I could, I think. But there's a sister of Mr. Burton's—she'scomin'."

"Not Nettie Colebrook?"

"Yes, Mis' Colebrook. That's her name. She's a widow, an' hain't gotanything needin' her. She wrote an' offered, an' Mr. Burton said yes,if she'd be so kind. An' she's comin'."

"When?"

"Next week. The day the nurse goes. Why? What makes you look so queer?

Do you know—Mis' Colebrook?"

"Know Nettie Burton Colebrook? Well, I should say I did! I went toboardin'-school with her."

"Humph!" Susan threw a sharp glance into Mrs. McGuire's face. Susanlooked as if she wanted to ask another question. But she did not askit. "Humph!" she grunted again; and turned back to the sheet she washanging on the line.

There was a brief pause, then Mrs. McGuire commented dryly:

"I notice you ain't doin' no rhymin' to-day, Susan."

"Ain't I? Well, perhaps I ain't. Some way, they don't come out now sonatural an' easy-like."

"What's the matter? Ain't the machine workin'?"

Susan shook her head. Then she drew a long sigh. Picking up her emptybasket she looked at it somberly.

"Not the way it did before. Some way, there don't seem anything insideof me now only dirges an' funeral marches. Everywhere, all day,everything I do an' everywhere I go I jest hear: 'Keith's blind,Keith's blind!' till it seems as if I jest couldn't bear it."

With something very like a sob Susan turned and hurried into thehouse.

CHAPTER VII

SUSAN TO THE RESCUE

It was when the nurse